


The Snake Prince

by Castillon02, greedy_dancer



Series: Broken Curses [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Audio Book, Audio Format: M4B, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Collaboration, Community: pod_together, Curse Breaking, Curses, Download Available, Fluff, Gen, Music, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Available, Podfic Length: 30-45 Minutes, Singing, Snakes, bloopers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castillon02/pseuds/Castillon02, https://archiveofourown.org/users/greedy_dancer/pseuds/greedy_dancer
Summary: Geralt needs Jaskier's help to break a curse.(A story and its audio performance -- 35 min.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Broken Curses [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891447
Comments: 78
Kudos: 363
Collections: Pod_Together 2020





	The Snake Prince

**Author's Note:**

> This collaborative work was created for pod_together 2020. Thanks to the mods for running this wonderful challenge!

  


  * **[Click here to stream or right-click + 'save as' to downoad as an mp3](https://bit.ly/3hoeztA)**
  * **[Click here to download as an audiobook (m4b)](https://bit.ly/2EtfZ7P)**



  
**Details**  


  * **Length:** 0:35:27
  * **File size:** 22Mo



  
**Credits**

  * **Story by:** Castillon02 (with input from greedy_dancer)
  * **Podfic & cover art by:** greedy_dancer (with input from Castillon02)
  * [Cover art snake](https://blogs.bl.uk/digitisedmanuscripts/2016/12/fantastic-beasts-at-the-british-library.html)
  * **Hosting by:** Paraka



* * *

A little after Jaskier turned twenty-one, Geralt showed up in the tavern where he was performing, drummed his fingers on a table in the corner while Jaskier sang, and steered him out by the back of his doublet the instant the last coin from the audience had jingled into his purse.

“Yes, hello, Geralt, so nice to see my favorite Witcher again,” Jaskier said, blinking in the afternoon sun.

Geralt hopped onto Roach and nudged her towards the road.

“‘And how is my favorite bard?’ I hear you ask. It just so happens that there was a lovely young—”

“Cursed prince,” Geralt interrupted.

A cursed prince was definitely song-worthy. Jaskier shut up and followed him to hear the details.

Contrary bastard that he was, Geralt refused to say anything more about it, not even when Jaskier employed his full powers of pestering. But they stayed together as they rushed through the mud and buds of spring and sweated their way to Nazair, so Jaskier knew he would get the full story eventually.

Upon their arrival, the queen spoke to Geralt about the contract privately, which—rude. However, she was happy to put both of them up in what she referred to as a ‘quaint little guesthouse.’ It had gilded thresholds and was furnished with celebrated Ofieri art from the queen’s homeland. Clearly, a curse had to be broken, and there was both a serious deadline and a lot of money at stake. Jaskier wasn’t fool enough to believe Geralt wanted him here because he missed his singing, so there had to be some way that Jaskier could help.

After a private dinner in their guest house, Geralt led him behind the palace, through the woods, and down an ominous, barely-used path, a transition that Jaskier was already dramatizing for his future ballad. Pale fragments of something had caught on the blossoming tree branches, the wrong texture and also far too large to be spiderwebs. He tilted his head back and squinted at them, singing, “ _These haunted trees, they do not please / things hang from them that aren’t leaves._ ”

“Shed skin,” Geralt said, seeming unbothered. As the sun sank beneath the treeline, he gave Jaskier the bare bones of the situation: a prince turned into a snake monster for twenty years, the twenty years were almost up, and they had to fulfill certain conditions in order to break the curse or it would be permanent. Geralt didn’t give him any exact details, but he did say that one of those conditions was more of a ‘Jaskier thing’ than a ‘Witcher thing,’ which was why a Witcher hadn’t broken the curse before.

Jaskier felt the familiar tingle of adventure in his fingertips. “So you want me to befriend a giant snake?” he asked, peering into the dark cave where the snake supposedly lived. Geralt hadn’t said so, but what else could it be? “Why didn’t you befriend it yourself?”

“I’m a Witcher,” Geralt said.

“Witchers are very befriendable! Particularly Geralt-shaped ones.”

“Giant snake might not think so,” Geralt said, rolling his shoulders so the swords on his back shifted pointedly. Ooh, this was progress! Geralt hadn’t referred to himself as inherently unfriendable, just inherently unfriendable to monsters he was contracted to kill, and yes, that did track.

Though if anything, it seemed like Geralt and a giant snake might have things in common. “Are giant snakes really that discerning?” Jaskier asked, squinting at him dubiously.

“Don’t know,” Geralt said. “What I do know is, the snake might be discerning, but you’re not.”

“Excuse—! I am very discerning! I discern all the time!”

Geralt grabbed him by the elbow, steered him into the cave, and lit a sconce with a quick hand-sign. “There. See it, talk to it, love it,” he ordered, pointing at the snake.

Jaskier froze as the snake flicked its tongue out at him and swayed upward, balancing on its own coils so its head was level with Jaskier’s face. It was enormous—it had to be as long as ten Jaskiers, its middle as thick as a Geralt, and its spade-shaped head looked wide enough to swallow a deer whole. Its moss-colored hide glimmered in the torchlight, and its round golden eyes gazed unblinkingly at him.

It was magnificent. Jaskier wanted to lean in and kiss it right on its beautiful snake nose. He assumed that the standard ‘no blade can pierce it’ curse clause applied, since the snake was still alive, but why would anyone want to kill such a splendid sentient serpent?

“Pardon my directness, but you’re just gorgeous, aren’t you?” Jaskier said. “I’m Jaskier. Say, are you a constrictor, hiding great big hugging muscles under that shiny skin of yours? Or are you the venomous kind of snake?”

The snake unhinged its jaw to show off upper fangs as long as boot knives. Its tongue licked at the air in front of Jaskier’s face, the thick glottis bulging behind it, and little teeth poked up out of both sides of its lower jaw.

Hands down, one of the best moments of Jaskier’s life. Who else had seen such a wondrous thing so close? Geralt was the best friend ever.

“You are _so_ impressive,” Jaskier said, leaning in for a closer look. He had seen bigger fangs on other monsters, but those had been dead, and anyway, this snake was definitely winning the ‘magical wyrm’ category. Drops of venom dripped from the fangs and hissed as they hit the cave floor. “I’ll bet you could kill a hundred men with one bite,” Jaskier praised. “Much more deadly than my dear Witcher’s potions. He does try, but it’s just not the same as being natively venomous, is it?”

The snake closed its mouth and seemed to nod. Its tongue darted out in a way that was, perhaps, a little smug.

Behind him, Geralt shifted.

Jaskier glanced around the cave behind the snake and saw...more cave wall. Good lord, what did this snake do with its time? Did it just curl into knots and contemplate its own sinuous navel? Jaskier was bendy, but he wasn’t bendy or focused enough to join in on _that_ kind of activity. “It’s been lovely meeting you,” he said, “but do you want me to bring a book next time? I could read to you; I have a book with a hundred and one exciting stories in it. And this seems like a bit of a boring cave, to be honest. Oh! Tap my forehead for yes, hiss for no.”

In front of him, the snake froze.

Behind him, Geralt made the tiniest sound in the back of his throat.

Oh, yes, the snake and Geralt definitely had some things in common. Jaskier smiled. “Don’t worry,” he told the snake. “You’ll do just fine.”

Very slowly, the snake inched its snout forward and tapped him on the forehead, its reptile skin warm and dry, a puff of air from its nostrils ruffling Jaskier’s hair. _Yes_ , Jaskier heard in his mind, in a cool, reptilian voice. Immediately, the snake flinched back.

A magically talking snake. Marvelous!

“Thank you for being so brave,” Jaskier said. “I really liked that you were able to say what you wanted. And you were as gentle as a bunny kiss! See you tomorrow, all right?” He waved at the snake and they left.

“Short first meeting,” Geralt commented on the way back.

“I’ve been told that my initial presence can be overwhelming,” Jaskier said loftily. He bumped his hip against Geralt’s, a silent ‘thank you, I love you.’

Geralt gripped his shoulder and shoved him an arm’s length away. He held on longer than he needed to, though, his hand warm through Jaskier’s doublet.

—

“What shall we do with our evening?” Jaskier asked.

“Bathe,” Geralt said, as Jaskier had known he would. The guest house came with two massive tubs. They had to haul their own water, but after that he and Geralt spent the evening steaming themselves in the bedroom, letting the heat heal the muscles that had been pushed so hard on their journey.

The purposeless inactivity of a bath usually made Jaskier antsy, but Geralt could bathe quietly for ages. (He could do anything quietly for ages, a talent Jaskier found almost as impressive as all the monster-hunting.) It took Jaskier a little while to settle, but he was determined to figure out this relaxation thing. He found that when he kept his ears underwater and closed his eyes, his brain shut off in a delightful way. Not sleeping. Just, the steam filled his lungs, and the water filled his ears, and the urge to move and think slipped out of him just like the tension in his muscles.

He floated.

Until suddenly he was coughing water, and he woke up to Geralt hauling him up in the tub before he drowned himself.

“I can’t believe you almost died trying to keep yourself quiet,” Geralt said, looking down at him with his hands still under Jaskier’s arms like Jaskier might try to do it again.

Jaskier tilted his head back, meeting Geralt’s eyes from below. “I told you that shutting up might literally be fatal for me.” He grinned.

Geralt grunted and shoved him back in the water.

—

On the morning of the second day, Jaskier brought a book with him, leaned back against the snake’s massive coils even though it made Geralt’s face do complicated things, and more firmly established a system of communication that involved strategic booping with the snake’s nose so they could communicate mentally. The snake seemed to understand Jaskier well enough, but the concept of talking back was new. Jaskier started the snake off with three important words: yes, no, and maybe.

The story he led with was about a man who transformed into a beast. “Not the most indirect connection, I know,” he said. “But you were a man before this, weren’t you?”

The snake nudged his forehead and its strange voice said in Jaskier’s mind, _No_.

Jaskier frowned. “But you have human parents?” he asked. He doubted the queen would go to so much trouble for a child who wasn’t hers.

The snake’s warm snout tapped his cheek, saying, _Yes_.

“So you’ve been like this since you were a baby,” Jaskier realized.

The snake tapped his cheek again. _Yes_.

“Oh, it’s no wonder you’re frightened of changing!” Jaskier said. “You’ve never known anything different—imagine, changing from a giant snake to a naked little thing like me! Well, not naked, as you can see by this fine attire, but what would you do without your scales and your fangs? Geralt seems to fare well enough with his swords, but it’s not the same, is it?”

 _No_ , the snake said, its head drooping after sliding against Jaskier’s forehead.

Jaskier considered what Geralt liked to do after Jaskier succeeded in coaxing and/or prying the tiniest sliver of vulnerability out of him. Mostly, it was pretend like nothing had happened. “Shall I keep reading?” he asked.

As an answer, the snake flicked its forked tongue out to kiss Jaskier’s cheek.

Jaskier held in a laugh; snake-kisses tickled. “That was delightful, but ask first, please,” he said. Asking permission would be a good habit to teach his isolated friend. “How about you tap the floor with your tail when you have a question?”

He spent the rest of the day reading to the snake, emphasizing the bits in the story where the protagonists made use of their hands and their voices. Before he left, he said, “Can I give you a hug?” and when the snake tapped his cheek and said, _Yes_ , Jaskier wrapped his arms around its enormous snakey nose. He said, “Change is scary. I’m proud of you for trying.”

The snake wavered in the air, looking at him, and didn’t say anything at all. That was all right. Jaskier had plenty of experience with people who needed to stop talking sometimes.

—

That evening, he and Geralt sat in front of the fire and picked up where they had left off in Jaskier’s book. Geralt sharpened his swords and Jaskier read a couple of tales aloud with the scraping rhythm in the background.

Then Geralt said, as he sometimes did when he felt talkative, “That’s stupid.”

Following their reading ritual, Jaskier said, “Which part?”

“All of it,” Geralt said, “but especially the part where Hansel tried to mark his trail with breadcrumbs. Even a young Witcher would never do that.” He snorted scornfully.

“How would you tell it, then?” Jaskier asked, his pen at the ready. He encouraged Geralt to poke and prod and criticize, which were things Geralt was good at. Eventually, Jaskier had a Witcher version of the story written down, a version where Hansel and Gretel’s teacher dumped them in the woods as part of their training and told them to find their way home if they wanted supper. It was half tracking lesson—Jaskier could see Geralt trying to impart some practical knowledge into his poor, deprived, university-educated brain—and half parable about what to do instead of accepting the kindness of strangers at face value.

“All Witchers grow up knowing that a supposedly grateful citizen might just be trying to lure you somewhere so they can stab you with a pitchfork instead of paying you,” Geralt said matter-of-factly. “Witchers in training would scout the location and one of them would lure the witch out while the other went inside to investigate and potentially sabotage or poison her, depending on what they found.”

“Very sensible,” Jaskier said. He wanted to hug Geralt, but Geralt might not understand why, so instead he said, “You have some blade oil—here, let me—” and he took Geralt’s rough hands in his and wiped them with his handkerchief until they were clean.

—

On the third day, Jaskier brought his lute and sang, which the snake seemed to enjoy, swaying its body to the rhythm of the song.

“ _An oracle with prophecies, whispering your fate / Your enemy who shouts at you, slinging words of hate / A friend who matches wits with you, inciting your debate / Strike your words together, dear—see how they resonate_.”

Communication was the theme of the day: friends jesting, warriors working together in battle, lovers saying ‘I love you.’

“I wonder what you would joke about,” Jaskier said. “Are mice funny? Or deer?”

The snake bared its fangs and snapped forward, stopping an inch from Jaskier’s face, and then it very deliberately turned to face Geralt, whose hand had gone to his sword.

“Oho, so you think taunting Witchers is funny! In that case, we were definitely meant to be friends.” Jaskier grinned. “Shall we really give him a heart attack? I could think of something.” Nothing to build solidarity like having a common enemy.

The snake hesitated and hissed, nudging his forehead. _No_.

“That’s all right,” Jaskier told the snake. “You’re allowed to say ‘no;’ I’m glad you told me so I wouldn’t make you uncomfortable.”

The snake flinched; Jaskier held its gaze. Geralt had had a hard time believing that someone would care if he was uncomfortable, too, when Jaskier had joined him.

By the end of the day, Jaskier hadn’t heard any more words in his mind from the snake, but the snake had figured out how to hiss rhythmically. Music before rhetoric. Probably inevitable, considering Jaskier’s everything.

—

“You’re not going to sing at me all evening, are you?” Geralt asked. Once outside of the cave, he had allowed himself to slump—all of that socializing and singing all day must have been tiring for him.

Luckily, Jaskier was on the same page.

“Gods, no,” Jaskier said. “After today, I’m all played out. Musically, anyway.” He stored his lute in his lute case and they spent a lazy evening playing gwent for the privilege of grooming Roach when they were back on the Path. Geralt didn’t talk except for a “Hmm” when Jaskier played a particularly good move, and Jaskier found himself keeping quiet out of solidarity. The language of gwent didn’t need any words, except for maybe an “Aha!” when you beat the odds and won.

—

On the fourth day, the snake said ‘no’ to everything Jaskier suggested, but it still struggled to summon new words to propose any alternatives.

“You’re frustrated,” Jaskier said.

 _No_.

“Shall I leave?” Jaskier asked.

 _No_. The snake curled up in a sulk with its jaw on the floor.

“It hurts to change,” Jaskier said. “I had to change who I was too, you know. I ran away from everything I had been raised to be and I had to figure how to be the new me. It’s hard.” He hadn’t told this to Geralt before, not in so many words, but he didn’t look away from the snake to see how his Witcher took it. His snake was more important now.

The snake was still for a long time. Finally, it nudged Jaskier’s cheek and said, _Yes_.

Jaskier ran his hand down the snake’s neck. “I admire you so much for growing even though it hurts,” he said. “You could be the size of a pencil, and you would still be the strongest snake I’ve ever met. I’m going to go now, because I don’t like upsetting you, but I’ll be back tomorrow, all right?”

The snake’s tail tapped for a question and its tongue flicked out.

Jaskier smiled. “Yes,” he said.

The snake gave him a goodbye kiss on the cheek.

—

“I was different after my Trials,” Geralt said on the walk back to the guest house. He didn’t say anything else, and after eating they spent the evening in their separate rooms, Jaskier composing and Geralt doing Geralt things—meditation, probably.

Sometimes they needed time apart: evenings like this; weeks and months where they didn’t travel together. But that was all right. They always came back together again eventually.

—

On the fifth day, the snake took him out hunting. Which was to say, it took Jaskier into the forest around its cave, with Geralt following behind as usual. It looked rather magnificent in locomotion, its swift curves moving silently through the grass and around the trees. After Jaskier made it clear that he wasn’t going to shut up, the snake slithered quickly ahead of them and out of sight, which had been Jaskier’s secret plan all along, because he both did and did not want to watch the snake eat something. It would be fascinating, he thought, but also disturbingly like the worst kind of blowjob in the world. Just, boom. Swallowed whole down the thing’s unending gullet.

But when the snake reappeared, it dropped the dead deer in its jaws at Jaskier’s feet instead of eating it.

“Oh! Ahaha, that’s very kind of you,” Jaskier said, scratching the back of his neck. The deer’s belly had corrosive fang marks in it and anyone who ate it would undoubtedly die a swift and agonized death. “Well!” he hedged brightly.

Geralt cannily took on the role of bad-news-bearer. “Humans can’t ingest your venom,” he told the snake. “I probably could, but not without a potion. If you want to feed someone other than yourself, you need to kill your prey with blunt trauma.” He paused, visibly calculating the odds of the snake knowing certain vocabulary. “I mean, hit it really hard instead of biting it.”

“However, venomous fangs are incredibly useful when you want things dead and unable to be eaten by people,” Jaskier told the snake in his most reassuring voice.

The snake hissed and wove itself into a knot. It did not look reassured.

—

“Come on,” Geralt said after dinner that evening, “time to test whether you were paying attention to that Witcher story.” He grabbed a bottle of wine, led Jaskier out into the woods, spun him in circles until he was dizzy, and then deadpanned, “Oh, no. We’re lost.” He took a generous swig of the wine and stepped away when Jaskier grabbed for it. “ _Your_ wine is at the house,” he said meaningfully.

“You are a cruel witch and I’m going to poison your next bottle,” Jaskier said. But he always paid attention to stories, so he got them back with only a couple of missteps, and one of those missteps was because Geralt intentionally misled him.

“Trust your senses, not my words,” Geralt said.

“Right, sure,” Jaskier said. ‘What a brilliantly healthy way to live, Geralt,’ Jaskier didn’t say, first because Geralt had his reasons, and second because it wasn’t like Jaskier could talk about healthy lifestyles. And then, because as Geralt had been talking Jaskier’s brain had gone on a quick journey from ‘senses’ to ‘tactility’ to ‘sex’ to ‘unhealthy lifestyles’ to ‘visual artists,’ Jaskier said, “I forgot to mention because I didn’t think about it until just now, but I want some paint for tomorrow.”

Geralt sighed and took an extra long drink of his wine.

—

On the sixth day, Jaskier and the snake went back to reading and singing. Jaskier talked about friends, communities, having someone who could help you when you needed it. “I’m useless at a lot of things Geralt can do,” Jaskier said. “But he’s useless at singing and dancing, so it evens out, you see.” He smiled and avoided looking at Geralt, who probably thought the scales were quite unbalanced.

He also brought out the crude charcoal paint that Geralt had helped him make the day before, and he and the snake did some cave art, Jaskier with his fingers and the snake with the tip of its tail. They signed their masterpiece with a handprint next to a tail print, because Jaskier was a lot of things, but subtle wasn’t one of them.

“We have to leave soon,” Jaskier said, because Geralt’s ‘hurry the fuck up’ glances had been increasingly impatient in the mornings, despite the fact that he had yet to give Jaskier any kind of instruction. “But,” Jaskier said, “I want you to know that even if you stay like this forever, I will still come and visit you. We can still stay friends, no matter how snakey you are or how many words you can say. All right?”

The snake’s tail tapped the ground for a question. But its tongue didn’t flick out; instead, it wriggled its sinuous body.

“You want a hug?” Jaskier guessed.

It hissed and nudged his chin, saying, _Maybe._

Progress! Jaskier could have cheered. “You want to give me a hug?”

The snake grazed his cheek and said, _Yes_.

“That would be lovely!” Jaskier said. “I’ve never been hugged by a snake before. I’ll definitely put this in your ballad!”

So the snake uncoiled and wrapped itself around Jaskier, tail-first...and then it started coiling again, and coiling some more, until Jaskier was quite trapped in the circle of its serpentine body.

“Um,” Jaskier said. “Geralt?”

Geralt snorted. “Nice and cozy,” he said. “Enjoy your night together.” And then he left! He left! His one opportunity to do some proper Witchering and save his faithful bard from an enormous snake, and Geralt walked out of the cave without so much as a by-your-leave! Ugh. Jaskier was going to sing “Toss A Coin” so many times after Geralt came back for him.

“I’m not happy,” Jaskier informed his snake. “Your ballad is going to undergo significant revision.”

The snake hissed and tapped his forehead, said, _No_.

“Oh, yes! No longer shall it be ‘ _kind, faithful wyrm, so heedlessly feared, when all that it wanted was friends to come near_!’ No, you have earned yourself a good dose of ‘ _treacherous snake who ignored his friend’s needs, possessive and fearful and_ —fuck. ‘Full of misdeeds’? Something similar, I assure you!”

The snake hung its head.

“I appreciate that you’re sorry,” Jaskier said, “but a good apology is always followed by mitigating the offending circumstances—I mean, by trying to heal the harm you’ve done.”

The snake’s snout grazed Jaskier’s cheek. Slowly, grudgingly, its coils loosened and raised until Jaskier could walk out under an archway of snake belly and sit down next to their cave art. “Well done,” Jaskier said. “You’ve officially learned how not to be a possessive shite, which is more than I can say for a few of the boys I knew at university.”

Geralt didn’t seem to be coming back anytime soon, so Jaskier picked his lute up. “ _Toss a mouse to your snake friend, o valley of plenty_ … No? Don’t like that? Can’t believe you agree with Geralt about something. Or is it just that mice are too small? Oh, here’s a fun fact: did you know you give me more feedback on my songs than Geralt ever does even though he can say more words than you can? That’s ridiculous, right?”

He composed and conversed with the snake until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, and then he fell asleep using the snake’s neck as his pillow.

—

On the morning of the seventh day, Geralt called, “Jaskier, get out here!”

Jaskier patted his snake, which raised its head in acknowledgment, and he walked out of the cave.

Geralt stood a short ways away. He had his silver sword in his hand, its bare blade twinkling under the faint light of dawn streaming through the trees.

Without thinking, Jaskier found himself folding his arms and planting his feet in front of Geralt. “Absolutely not,” he said.

Geralt shrugged. “Family paid for the curse to be removed or the monster killed,” he said, loud enough that the snake could surely hear. “Curse isn’t gone, so…” He raised the sword.

Jaskier frowned, trying to see what he was missing. This wasn’t like Geralt at all. For one thing, he didn’t tend to warn his monsters about their impending demise. “What’s happening?” he asked.

Geralt stepped closer, his sword still raised. “I have to do this,” he said simply, gravely, the way he said things when his mind was made up.

Jaskier clenched his jaw, a tremble going through him. He had nothing on his side but stubbornness, and he knew it. He jutted his chin. “Friends don’t kill friends, Geralt! I know I haven’t written them down for you, but surely you know this is one of the first rules of friendship. And the snake is my friend.”

Geralt shrugged, his face cold and blank. “Betray it,” he said. “Step aside. Not that hard. It’s just a monster, and I’ve known you for years.”

Oh, this was not good. Something was definitely wrong. Geralt was—under a spell, or something, and the only one to stop him was Jaskier.

He shoved aside the dread building in the pit of his belly. Useless though it was, he puffed himself up, his shoulders back and his arms spread wide as though any kind of human barrier could stop a Witcher. “Friends don’t betray friends either,” he said. “And stepping aside would be a betrayal of both of you. You know that, even if you don’t seem to remember it at the moment.”

“Last chance,” Geralt said.

“Fuck off!” Jaskier said.

Geralt did a curious thing, then: instead of advancing, he held his finger to his lips for Jaskier to stay quiet, and he knocked the hilt of his sword against his own head, loud enough that it made an audible thunk. Afterwards, he shoved Jaskier roughly to the ground.

Then Geralt waited, barely breathing, his eyes intent on the cave mouth, his hand held palm-out in their Path signal for ‘shut the fuck up, I really mean it.’

Jaskier kept himself shut the fuck up, and as he did, understanding leaped into his brain like a frog. Oh! Oh, that deceptive son of a—

A horrific ripping sound broke the silence. Bare feet slapped against rock, running in their direction, and a hoarse shout of “No! Jaskier!” reached their ears.

They’d done it. The prince had done it. Jaskier scrambled up just in time to catch the naked man who rocketed into him, and they clutched each other. The man didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t have to. “You did it!” Jaskier said, beaming and embracing him. “Look at you, you have curls! You’re a fine specimen of a man! I’m so proud of you!”

Behind the man, inside the cave, he could see the first few feet of an enormous, empty green snakeskin. In his peripheral vision, Geralt was smiling.

—

“That was very clever,” Jaskier said later, admiringly. “What do you think did it? Trust? Self-sacrifice?”

They were back on the Path again, Geralt on Roach and Jaskier trotting next to them. He was wearing his new snakeskin boots, which were guaranteed not to wear out, and Geralt had a length of magically strong snakeskin rolled up in his saddlebags to use for future armor.

“Had to completely trust someone,” Geralt said. “Couldn’t let go of his monster skin otherwise. Too afraid.”

“And you thought of your notoriously flighty bard for this task,” Jaskier said.

Geralt slanted a knowing look at him.

Jaskier flushed.

“After a Witcher, a big snake is easy,” Geralt said.

“And even easier when you have a Witcher playing ‘the mean one’ to help you,” Jaskier countered. “You knew what you were doing, getting that snake on my side.”

Geralt looked away, but his eyes crinkled revealingly at the corners. He liked this kind of job best, Jaskier thought, the kind of job where he had to solve a curse the way Jaskier solved a tricky stanza, playing with the pieces of it until they all clicked into place.

Jaskier had been one of those pieces, and Geralt had used him as he might have used a sword. It could have been annoying, but instead a quiet pleasure bloomed in his chest. Geralt trusted his swords not to fail him; he trusted Jaskier not to, either. “Love it,” Geralt had said, and Jaskier had. “Step aside,” Geralt had said, and Jaskier hadn’t. Just as Geralt had expected.

A fair few people knew Jaskier, and even more knew of him, but Geralt was the only one who knew him like this.

And because Jaskier knew Geralt, too, and more specifically knew that Geralt was probably about ten seconds from cantering away on Roach after this feelings-involving discussion, Jaskier said, “Thank goodness it was a trust curse and not a sex curse. Don’t get me wrong, Geralt, I would have explored the mysteries of snake anatomy if I’d had to, but I wouldn’t have been happy about it.”

A moment of quiet. Then Geralt said, “You would have. Phallic snake puns.”

“...All right, yes, you have a point,” Jaskier admitted. “The ballad would have had so many phallic snake puns that it would almost have been worth it. In fact, I may write that version anyway! Quick, what rhymes with ‘trouser snake’?”

“Drowner lake,” Geralt said after a moment.

“Ugh!” Jaskier wrinkled his nose. “You’re such a _Witcher_.”

Geralt flashed a sly smile at him. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I definitely learned rhymes like that from a human. Look on your work and despair, bard.”

Instead, Jaskier looked at him and rejoiced. Geralt still lived with his own monster skin wrapped around him like armor, and who could blame him? Witchers needed all the protection they could get. But Geralt had lifted a scale or two so Jaskier could see underneath. Maybe one day, if that kept happening, then Jaskier would be able to know the whole of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and listening! 
> 
> Writer's notes: 
> 
> The idea of a man needing to leave the snake-skin he was born in came from an Indian folktale called "The Enchanted Brahman's Son," which you can read here: https://www.pitt.edu/~dash/snake.html#panchantra. Thank you so much to Greedy_Dancer for inviting me to the Pod_Together fun, and for being an amazing partner to work with.
> 
> Podficcer's notes:
> 
> More detailed notes are included in the audio file, but in short: I had so much fun throughout the whole process, thank you to Cas for answering my random Tumblr ask, agreeing to do this with me and being so open to true collaboration!


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